THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 



A COMEDY ; 



BY HENRY GLAPTHORNE. 



LONDON: 

PRINTED FOR HURST, ROBINSON, AND CO., 

90, CHEAPSIDE, AND 8, PALL MALL; 
AND ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND CO., EDINBURGH. 



MDCCCXXV. 









LONDON *. 

Printed by D. S. Maurice, Fenehurch Street. 



-kA 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 



This is the latest and best of Glapthorne's plays ; — it is 
more dramatic, and less extravagant, than " Albertus Wal- 
lenstein," although by no means free from the hyperbole 
and vicious redundancy of figure which distinguish the 
style of this author. " The Lady's Privilege" is, however, 
altogether an eloquent composition, and is written with 
more feeling than the author usually displays. 



THE LADIES PRIVILEDGE. 

AS IT WAS ACTED WITH GOOD ALLOWANCE, AT THE 

COCK PIT IN DRURY LANE, AND BEFORE THEIR 

MAIESTIES AT WHITE HALL, TWTCE. 

BY THEIR MAIESTIES SERVANTS. 
THE AUTHOR, HENRY GLAPTHORNE. 

Militat omnis amans, et habet sua castra Cupido. 



IMPRINTED at LONDON by J. ORES, for FRANCIS CONSTABLE : 



AND ARE TO BE SOLD AT HIS SHOPS IN KING'S^gBJET, AT THE 
SIGNE OF THE GOAT, AND IN WESTMINSTER HALL. 



•'S^^|E 



1640. 



TO THE 
TRUE EXAMPLE OF HEROIC VIRTUE, AND FAVOURER OF ARTS, 

SIR FREDERICK CORNWALLIS. 



Sir, 

You are so well acquainted with the justice 
of nobility, that your own fame is your own history : you 
are right in that, Sir. Nor need I study to express it in a 
larger character, since it is texted already in a volume, 
time (which is edax rerum) cannot exterminate. Think 
not, worthiest Sir, this can in me be flattery ; your worth 
admits none : nor dare I sell myself to such a slavery, as to 
begin my service to you with that unmanly prostitution : 
you have always afforded me such transcendent favours, 
that I should descend to ingratitude, should not I study a 
retribution : which though I cannot reach at, accept, Sir, 
I beseech you, this essay of gratitude from 

Your most obliged honourer, 

HEN: GLAPTHORNE. 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 



ACT I. SCENE I. 

Enter Bonivet, Lactantio, and Vitelli. 

Bon. Is the news certain he is arrived ? 

Fit. The Duke 
Had sure intelligence that the whole fleet 
Anchor'd last night without the bay, and now, 
For confirmation of it, the thick breath 
Of his saluting cannon hangs in clouds 
Over the Citadel ; and the glad noise 
Of the applauding people gratulates 
His entrance to the river. 

Bon. The day rose 
So cheerfully, as if it meant to guild, 
With unaccustomed light, his sails, swoln big 
As pregnant mother, with the pleasing air 
Of victory. 



2 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

Lac. The rumour of the fleet 
Has fill'd all Italy with wonder, how 
So small a number should, in open fight, 
Defeat the Turkish navy ; and conclude 
The General's skill and valour the main cause 
Of the atchievement. 

Vit. He has return'd as large 
Assurance of his worth as when his force, 
BackM with successive fortune, (which attends 
His mighty resolution) overthrew 
The power of Venice in a fight which chang'd 
The sea into a flame, and took me in't 
His fortunate captive. 

Bon. Sir, 'tis noble in you 
To acknowledge that as good, which might have been 
Your imminent ruin ; stately buildings so 
Rise out of ancient structures, which the rage 
Of eating time or anger of the winds 
Had totter' d from the ground-works. You may prove 
As fairly happy in the General's love 
As in the honour which your name or countrv 
Conferr'd on your desert. 

Vit. You speak the scope 
Of my intention. A perfect friend 
Includes both honour, country, family, 
And all that's dear and holy : such a friend 
As is my Doria ; to whose spacious merit 
Succession shall pay volumes; who was man 
Ere, in the smooth field of his face, rough age 
Display'd his hairy ensign ; who has pulPd 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 6 

Bright honour's wreath from her triumphant front, 
In battles, when the trembling sea, being calm, 
Did crowd, and thrust his waves into a storm, 
To part the dreadful fury. 

Lac. The report 
Of his land services do stand on terms 
Of competition with the multitude 
Of his sea victories. 

Viu Yet must subscribe 
To his naval triumphs, though the land 
Has seen him conqueror, when the bodies slain 
Buried the ground they died on, which did shake 
To view itself entomb'd by them for whom 
It was ordain'd a sepulchre ; the drums 
Were to his ears delightful as the lute ; 
Pikes, moving then in forest, seemed as groves 
Of lofty cedars, stirr'd by sportive winds ; 
And when war's choristers, the lofty fife, 
And surly trumpet, sung an army dirge, 
That fatal music rapp'd his sprightful sense 
Like jovial hymns at nuptials. 

Bon. You cannot exceed 
His praise's duty, since his worth contains 
Honour's most several attributes. 

Enter Frangipan. 

Lac. Sign or Frangipan ! 
What ! riding post on foot ! whither in such haste ? 

Fran. Very well met, gentlemen : I scarce have breath 
To utter a wise word yet. 



4 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

Lac. We do believe you, Signor, and are in doubt 
When you'll have leisure for't. 

Fran. Hear you the news ? 
The General's arriv'd ! farewell ! He will not land 
Till I have had the maiden-head of his hand. [exit. 

Bon. Tis such another parrot, — he relates 
Things by tradition, as dogs bark ; his news 
Still marches in the rear, yet he relates it 
As confidently as if each tale he tells 
Was to be straight inserted as an eighth 
To the seven former wonders. But here comes one 
Will cut off the fool's character : 

Enter Doria, A dorm, and Sabelli. 

renowned General. 
Do us the gracious honour to permit us 
Salute the hand has sav'd our country ! 

Do. Noble friends ! 
I am more victorious in your early loves 
Than in the Turkish Conquest, though I remain 
A captive to your kindness. My Vitelli, 
The solid earth, or a continu'd rock, 
May? by some strange eruptions of the wind, 
Be rent and so divided, but true friends 
Are adjuncts most inseparable. I have 
Still worn thee here, Vitelli, as a jewel 
Fit for no other cabinet. Gentlemen, 
Your welcome hands; methinks, we should embrace, 
So as the ships grapple in hot fight ; nor part 
Till our affectionate fury has discharged 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

Vollies of joyful courtesy. 

Ador. This is fitter ceremony for them 
Than to embrace an enemy, who will not part 
On terms so easy : these gentlemen know better 
To cut a caper than a cable, 

Or board a pink in the burdels, than a pinnace at sea. 
I marvel, my lord should know such milk-sops. 

Tit. My lord, 
You come t' instruct us courtship ; youVe taught 
Your foes to fear your valour : you appear 
As if this were your nuptial-day, on which 
You were to wed bright triumph ; but you can 
As well court peace in silks as raging war 
In burnish'd steel, and touch the ravishing strings 
With as much cunning industry as if 
Mars could, like Orpheus, strike the trembling harp. 
Signor Adorni, welcome home 1 I hope 
You've made a richer prize than when my ship 
Struck to your mercy. 

Ador. Yes, we are very like 
To make good prize indeed, when all the profit 
Goes to the State and heavy-headed Burgers, 
That lie and snort at home, and eat what we 
Sweat bloody drops for. 
Do. Honest Adorni ! 
His bluntness must excuse him, gentlemen. 
How harsh and rough soe'er he seems, his humour 
Will quickly vary. When I have been tir'd 
With toil of war, the observations which 
His travels have afforded him of men, 



b THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

Countries, and manners, lively set forth 

By his expressive action, has begot 

Mirth in my drowsy soul. When you're acquainted 

With his conceit of carriage, you'll not affect 

A jovialler companion. — See, the Duke ! 

\]\e kneels to the Duke : flourish. 

Enter Trivulci, Chrisea, Eurione, and Corimba. 

Tri. My noble warrior ! 
Peace now looks lovely on us, since we enjoy 
The author oPt in safety. Rise, my Doria ; 
Let me embrace those youthful limbs which clothe 
War in Love's livery. Thy honour'd father, 
When he returnd laden with Turkish spoils, 
As trophies of his valour, from the slaughter 
Of Haly Bassa, at Lepanto, where 
The Christian name was hazarded, arriv'd not 
More welcome to the State. Believe me, youth, 
Had'st thou a mother living to be proud 
Of thy nativity, unless she wept 
For joy to see thee, could no way express 
A more affectionate gladness. Chrisea, 
Eurione, welcome him home who cannot 
Receive an equal grace to the just value 
Of his deservings 1 

Chri. Your grace prepares us for that 
We did intend to offer. 

Corim. Yes, truly, we did, Sir ; this General is ill bred, I 
warrant him, to slight a gentlewoman of my demeanour. 

Dor. My gracious lord ! 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. { 

To tender thanks where 'tis a debt, not duty, 

Befits an equal ; subjects ought to offer, 

With the sincere devotion that our priests 

Do prayers to heaven, their hands as sacrifices 

To their deserving princes, whose sole favours 

Do, as the quick'ning lustre of the sun, 

Cherish inferior spirits. Yours have been 

Shower'd down on me as elemental dew 

On the parched earth, which drinks it up and cannot 

Give heaven a retribution ; yet, my duty 

Shall speak my willing thankfulness ; and while 

These arms can wield victorious steel, no danger 

Shall fright me from that service which I owe 

My prince and country ; since men are not born 

For themselves only, but their life's a debt 

To the commonwealth that bred 'em. 
Tri. Gentle warrior ! 

Thy father's spirit swells thy soul — I read it 

In thy submissive loyalty : let's in ; 

'Tis just that those who caus'd the wars to cease 

Should have the early fruits of their own peace. 

[flourish ; exeunt all but Corimba and Eur tone. 
Euri. Corimba, 

Have you employ'd a serious diligence yet, 

In giving Lord Vitelli secret notice 

Of my affection to him ? 
Corim. Truly, madam, 

As I hope to have a husband yet 

'Ere I be fifty, I have been so ta'en up 

About my new device, I scarce have leisure 



8 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

To say my prayers ; sincerely, ladybird, 
You look sprightly, ravishing ; only this star 
Was not well cut, nor well laid on ; it wanted 
A little of my learned art. Vitelli ! 
Doubt him not, Madam ; he shall love you : so, 
'Tis pretty neat now ; I would not have a lady 
That wears a glass about her, have the least 
Pimple on her countenance discomposed; it does 
Disgallant a whole beauty. 

Eurl. But, Corimba, 
What's this to me ? Thou may'st as well tell tales 
Of love to one departing life : these toys 
Relish with me as bitter pills with children. 
Wilt thou effect my business ? 

Corim. I confess, 
1 have been very fortunate in bringing 
Couples together, though I ne'er could couple 
Myself with any. Your ladyship could not 
Have chose a better agent. 

Enter Frangipan. 

Fran. Save you, sweet lady ! Save you, aunt ! I have 
Lost all my morning exercise at tennis 
In seeking you, and yet was still in hazard 
Whether I should meet you. I must request a little 
Help from your art, good aunt ; a patch or two 
To make me appear more lovely, for my glass 
Tells me I have a very scurvy face, 
Without some ornament. 

Corim. Tis a good innocent face ; be not ashamM on't ! 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. V 

111 cut out one instantly. Nay, I never 

Go unprovided of materials. Let me see — 

What form is best for thee. Thou'rt something timorous ; 

A heart, stuck neatly on thy face, will excite 

Thy heart to more audacity. Good Madam, 

Does't not become him prettily ? Cousin, be sure, 

You do commend this fashion to all gentlemen. 

Wer't but as common among them as ladies, 

My wit would be eternally made famous 

For the invention. 

Fran. Will't please you to despatch, aunt ? Pin in haste ; 
I've a whole staple of news to vent. 

Corim. Of what troe ? 
Aside.'] I would have my kindred more ridiculous 
To th' world than I am. [aloud.'] Cousin, all your news 
Is stale : invent me, rather, some choice story, 
How true or false no matter, and declared 
For news, 'twill please far better, and endear 
Your judgment i'the relation. 

Enter Doria, Chrisea, and Sabelli. 

Fran. Noble General, you're happily encountered. 
Have you seen my aunt yet, Signor ? here she is. I have 
News to inform you, worth your knowledge. 

Dor. Keep them, 
Good Signor, till some other time. Eurione, 
We must implore your absence ; we'd be private. 

Corim. Why, we have been trusted 
With as good secrets ; please your Lordship, 
Accept this crescent ; you see, my cousin 



10 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

Is in the fashion ; let me lay it on. 

In sooth, your face is, for a soldier's, 

Too smooth and polite ; this device will shew 

As't had a scar upon it, which is an honour 

To faces military. 

Dor. Good Madam gravity, 
Keep your devices for your chamber-lords, 
That dance to ladies' shadows ! Pray, begone ! 
We need not your society — Sabelli, 
Put to the door, and then begone ! — 

[exeunt all but Chrisea and Dor'ux. 
Chrisea ! 
The modest turtles, which, 
In view of more lascivious birds, 
Exchange their innocent loves in timorous sighs, 
Do, when alone, most piteously convert 
Their chirps to billing, and, with feather'd arms, 
Encompass mutually their gawdy necks. 

Chri. You would infer, that we 
Should, in their imitation, spend this time, 
Intended for a conference, which concerns us 
Nearer than compliment. 

Dor. Why, my Chrisea, 
We may entwine as freely, since our loves 
Are not at age to conceive a sin, 
Thine being new born, and mine too young to speak 
A lawless passion ; for my services, 
Pay me with priceless treasure of a kiss, 
While, from the balmy fountains of thy lips, 
Distils a moisture, precious as the dew, 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 1 1 

The amorous bounty of the morn 
Casts on the rose's cheek : what wary distance 
Do you observe ? Speak, and enrich my ears 
With accents more harmonious than the lark's, 
When she sings hymns to harvest. 

Chri. Sure, my lord, 
You've studied compliment ; I thought the war 
Had taught men resolution, and not language. 

Dor. Oh ! you instruct me justly : I should rather 
Have ta'en the modest privilege of your lip, 
And then endeavour 'd to repay the grace 
With my extremest eloquence. 
Chri. You mistake me. 
Dor. Remit my ignorance, and let me read 
The mystery of thy language in thy looks, 
In which are lively characters of love, 
Writ in the polish'd tablets of thy cheeks, 
Which seem to vary colours like the clouds 
When they presage a storm ; and those bright eyes 
Dart unaccustom'd beams, which shine as anger 
Flash'd from their fiery motion. 

Chr'i. You misconstrue 
The intention of my looks. I am not angry 
Though much distemper'd. 

Dor At what ? by whom ? 
Lives there a creature so extremely bad, 
Dares discompose your patience ? Speak : reveal 
The monster to me. Were he fenced with flames, 
Or lock'd in bulwarks of congealed ice, 
And all the fiends stood sentinels to guard 



12 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

The passage, I would enforce it to his heart ; 
Through which, the mounting violence of my rage 
Should pierce like lightning. 

Chri. I believe, 
That, in some trivial quarrel to redeem 
My fame, should scandal touch it, you would fight, 
Perhaps, to shew your valour ; but I have 
A task t' enjoin you which my fears possess me 
You dare not venture to accept. 

Dor. By truth, 
You wrong my faith and courage, to suspect me 
Of so extreme a cowardice. Have I stood the heat 
Of battles till, upon the mountainous piles 
Of slaughtered carcases, the souls which left 'em 
Seem'd to ascend to heaven, that your suspicion 
Should taint my honour with this base revolt ? 
This is not noble in you. 

Chri. Do not rage. 
When you shall hear it, you will then confess 
Your confident error. 

Dor. My loyalty will not 
Permit that strong rebellion in my breast 
To doubt the meanest falsehood in a word 
Her voice can utter, which should charm the world 
To a belief some cherubim has left 
Its room in heaven to carol to the earth 
Celestial anthems, and I now begin 
To question my own frailty ; but, by all 
Which we call good or holy, be't your will 
I should invade inevitable death 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 13 

In its most ugly horror, my obedience 
Shall, like a careless pilot, cast this bark 
On that pale rock of ruin. 

Chri. Will you swear this ? 

Dor. Yes : invent 
A form of oath so binding that no law 
Or power can dispense with, and I'll seaFt 
With my best blood. Pray, madam, tell me what 
The imposition is you judge so easily 
Will stagger my just truth, that I may fly, 
On love's light wings, to act it. 

Chri. Hear it, then; and do not, 
As you respect your oath or love, request 
The cause of what I shall command. 

Dor. Still suspicious ! 
My honour be my witness, which no action 
Shall violate, I will not. 

Chri. Enough : that vow 
Cannot but be material ; receive it : — 
I must no longer love you. 

Dor. That's no command ; what did you say, Chrisea ? 

Chri. I must no longer love you : and command you, 
Leave your affection to me. 

Dor. You're very pleasant, lady. 

Chri. You'll find me very serious ; nay, more; 
I love another ; and I do enjoin you, 
Since 'tis a man you may o'er-rule, t' assist me 
In my obtaining him, without whose love 
I'm resolute to perish ! 
Dor. Sure I dream, 



14 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

Or some strange sudden death has changed this frame 
To immortality ; for, were I flesh, 
And should hear this, certain my violent rage 
Would pull me to some desp'rate act beyond 
The reach of fury : these are words would infect 
Rose-colour'd Patience' clear and lovely front 
With loathsome leprosy, change flames to tears, 
And, with unusual harshness of the sound, 
Deafen the genius of the world. 

Chri. Where's now 
The strength of soul you boasted ? Does the noise 
Of the death-speaking cannon not affright 
Your settled resolution, and the voice 
Of a weak woman shake your youthful blood 
Into an ague ? since you so ill bear this, 
W T hen you shall hear the man whose love has stoPn 
Your interest, you will rage more than unlimited fire 
In populous cities. 

Dor, Sure, 'tis she who speaks : 
I do enjoy, yet, sound untainted sense : 
Each faculty does, with a peaceful harmony, retain 
Its proper organ ; yet she did rehearse, 
She must no longer love me. Oh ! that word 
Transforms the soul of quiet into rage, 
Above distracted madness. Madam ! tell me — 
What place is this ? for you have led me 
Into a subtle labyrinth, where I never 
Shall have fruition of my former freedom, 
But, like an humble anchorite, that digs 
With his own nails his grave, must live coniin'd 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 15 

To the sad maze for ever. 

C/iri. Sir, you cannot 
By most submissive and continued prayers, 
Reclaim my affection, which stands as fix'd as fate 
Upon your friend Vitelli. 

Dor. My friend Vitelli ! 

Chru Sir 3 I not use 
To jest my life away ; Vitelli is 
The person to obtain whose precious love 
I do conjure you by all ties of honour 
T' employ your utmost diligence. 

Dor. Can I be 
So tame o' the sudden ? has the feeble spirit 
Of some degenerate coward frighted hence 
My resolution, which has given a law 
To fate itself, that I now become 
The stale to my own ruin ? O Chrisea I 
Who wert so good, that virtue would have sigh'd 
At the unwelcome spectacle, had you 
Appeared but woman in a passion, 
Though of the slightest consequence ; , oh, do not 
Abjure that saint-like temper; it will be 
A change hereafter burd'nous to your soul, 
As sin to one who, all his life-time blest 
With peace of conscience, at his dying minute 
Falls into mortal enmity with heaven, 
And perishes eternally, 

Chri. My will guides my determination, and you must 
In honour act your promise. 

Dor. Yes, I will, 



16 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

Since you can urge it, tho' but two 
Things precious to me, and one cruel word 
Robs me of both my friend and her. Chrisea, 
I have not left another sigh to move, 
Nor tear to beg your pity. 

Chri. They are but vain : 
You may as easily think to kiss the stars 
'Cause they shine on you, as recall my vows, 
Which I will urge no further, but wish you 
Regard your honour. But farewell ! I must 
Be cruel ere to my own love unjust. [exit. 

Dor. She's gone ! What vapour, which the nattering sun 
Attracts to heaven, as to create a star, 
And throw it a fading meteor to the earth, 
Has fall'n like me ? I am not yet grown ripe 
For perfect sorrow ; but, as a bubbling brook, 
That sports and curls within its flow'ry banks 
Till the vast sea devour it, only falling 
Into the abyss of mischief; passions surround 
My intellectual powers ; only my heart, 
Like to a rocky island, does advance 
Above the foamy violence of the flood 
Its unmov'd head : love be my careful guide ! 
Who sails 'gainst danger both of wind and tide. 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 17 

ACT II. SCENE I. 
Enter Bonivet, Lactantio, and Adorni. 

Bon. Thanks, good Adorni ; we are much endear'd 
To your relation. This rich Corsic wine 
Erected our dull spirits, and you shall 
Command our service in as high and jocund 
A nature. 

Ador. Sir, although I am 
One that affects not the nice phrase of Court, 
Having been nurs'd in war, yet I can frame 
Myself to imitation of what humour 
Shall there, or anywhere, appear to be 
Worthy my laughter. 

Bon. You have explain'd your knowledge. We, who 
breathe 
Only the air of Genoa, and ne'er tasted 
Foreign behaviour, covet nothing more 
Than certain knowledge of it, as 'tis proper to 
Complexions intellectual to delight 
In novelties : your Spaniard, as you say, 
Is of a staid, serious, and haughty garb ; 
Acts all his words with shrugs and gestures ; kisses 
His hand away in kindness ; is of diet 
Sparing, will pick his teeth as formally 
After an orange, or a clove of garlick, 
(Which is his ordinary morsel) as he'd fed 
On partridges or pheasants. 



18 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

Ador. 'Tis his grace 
After his dinner, Sir ; and to confirm 
Their most officious gravity, a Castilian 
Was, for some crime in Paris, to be whipt 
In triumph through the streets, and, being admonished 
To be more swift of foot, [and] so avoid 
The dreadful lash the sooner, in scorn answered, 
He rather would be flay'd alive than bate 
A tittle of his gravity. 

Lac. Much good 
Do it his patient shoulders : but, Adorni, 
What think you of the French ? 

Ador. Very airy people, who participate 
More fire than earth ; yet, generally, good, 
And nobly disposition' d ; something inclining 
To over-weening fancy. — 

Enter Corimba. 

This lady 
Tells my remembrance of a comic scene 
I once saw in their theatre. 

Bon. Add it to 
Your former courtesies, and express it. 

Ador. Your entreaty 
Is a command, if this grave lady please 
To act the Lady I must court. 

Corim. Why, do you think I cannot play the woman ? I 
have play'd a woman's part about twenty years ago in a 
Gourt masque ; and, tho' I say't, as well as some o' them, 
and have been courted too. But it is truth, I have a fool- 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 19 

ish quality, — as many more women are guilty of besides 
myself, — I always love them best which slight me most, 
and scorn those that do court me. Look you, Signor, if 't 
be a Lover's part you are to act, take a black spot or two. 
I can furnish you ; 'twill make your face more amorous, 
and appear more gracious in your mistress' eyes. 

Ador. Stand fair, lady. 

Corim. 'Tis your part to stand fair, Sir, doubt not my 
carriage. [Adorni acts furiously r .] O, most rare man! sin- 
cerely, I shall love the French the better while I live, for 
this. Nay, pray, Sir ! Gentlemen, entreat the man to pa- 
cify his wrath ! Tell him, I'll love him, rather than see 
him rage thus. 

Bon. He would have just reason to be mad, indeed, then ; 
But now the mode is alter'd. [Adorni acts again. 

Corim. Excellently ravishing ! this is of force to make 
the hardest-hearted lady love him. Can I entreat him but 
to teach my cousin some of his French, he will for ever be 
engallanted. 

Enter Eurione and Frangipan. 

Bon. Beauteous cousin I 
You've miss'd the quaintest sport ! Honest Adorni ! 
You would endear this lady to you, would you 
Please to re-act it. 

Ador. Nay, if you make me common once, farewell ! 
I am not for your company. 

Corim. Pray, Sir, a word or two: here is a gentleman, — 
Nay, nephew, though I say't, a toward young man, — 
Vouchsafe him your acquaintance. 



20 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

Ador. Will he fight ? Is he a soldier? 

Corim. No truly, Sir, nor shall he be : 
I would be loth to have my only cousin 
Heated about the heart with lead ; he's dull 
Enough already. Frangipan, come hither. 
This gentleman will, for my sake, teach thee French. 

Ador, For your sake, reverend Madam, T shall do't. 
Sir, please you walk, we will confer on rudiments. 

Corim. Come with him, coz. Sir, an you have occasion 
To use me in a pleasure stands within 
The ability of my performance, pray, command ; 
You shall not be deny'd. 

Ador. Come, Signors, will you walk ? 

^exeunt all but Eurione, Bonivet, and Corimba. 

Euri. Cousin Bonivet, 
I should be glad, after some minutes, to 
Enjoy your company. 

Bon. I shall attend your ladyship. 

Euri. Corimba, what answer from Vitelli ? do I live ? 
Or, in the killing rigour of his scorn, 
Must I die wretched ? 

Corim. Sincerely, madam, 
You are too timorous of your own deserts, 
Or else you durst not doubt that he, or any, 
You being so neat yourself, and drest as neatly 
As any lady in the Court, should hazard 
The reputation of his wit by slighting 
Such an accomplished beauty. 

Euri. You talk, 
And play the cunning flatterer, to excuse 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 21 

Your negligence; but know, affection's fire 
Once kindled by desire, and blown by thought 
Into a heat, expires a thousand sighs, 
Which, as love's smoke, like incense, fly to heaven : 
While the light fire with nimble wings doth soar 
To its own sphere, true lovers' hearts, who cherish 
The name till they to ashes burn, and perish. 

Corim. Why, ladybird, are you so passionate ? The gen- 
tleman 
Is a kind gentleman, has all that may 
Set forth a man ; for when 1 told him how, 
Like a hurt deer, you wounded were with love, 
'Life ! how he leapt for joy ! as if the self- 
Same arrow which struck you, had glanc'd on him ; 
And, as a token of his love, he sent you 
A bleeding heart in a cornelion, which, 
Beshrew me, most unfortunately I lost. 

Enter Chrisea. 

ChrL Corimba, see 
If General Doria be within ! Eurione, \_exit Corimba. 

I have been seeking thee. How dost thou, sister ? 
I must demand a question that concerns 
The safety of your fame. 

Euru I rest 
Secure in mine own innocence, and no malice 
Can forge an accusation which can blemish 
My meanest thought with scandal. 

Chri. I believe ; but know, Eurione, I am inform'd 
You do affect Vitelli, and conjure you, 



22 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

By the dear memory of our mother, tell me 
If the report be certain. 

Euri. Should I deny't, 
My love would muster thousand blushes up 
T' invade my guilty cheeks. I must confess, 
I love him so as modesty and truth 
Afford me warrant. 

Chri. Tis ill done, and childishly, so easily to impart 
The treasure of your liberty to keeping 
Of a neglected stranger. 

Euri. His own worth 
Deserves as noble knowledge here as many 
Who borrow titular glory from the dust 
Of their forgotten ancestors. 

Chri. You defend him 
Like a brave championess, as if you meant 
*P engage your dearest pawn of life and honour 
In his protection. 

Euri. Say I did, the even'st, 
Though most strict justice, would allow, as lawful, 
My honourable purpose. 

Chri. Fie ! you are led on too wildly by your fancy, 
sister. 
It ill befits the greatness of your blood 
To seek to mix its pure stream with a poor 
Regardless river. 

Euri. He appears to me 
Broad in his own dimensions as the sea; 
Clear as a brook, whose crystal lips salute 
Only the freshest meadows ; such a creature, 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 23 

That were some cunning painter to express 
An Angel cloth'd in human shape, he might 
From his derive a pattern. 

Chri. But suppose, my fancy 
Should oversway my judgment to affect 
Vitelli, sure, your manners will allow me, 
By willing resignation of your choice, 
The privilege of my birth-right. 

Euri. Would you urge 
A claim so justly mine, because you view'd 
The light two years before me ? No, Chrisea; 
Love 's an unlimited passion, that admits 
No ceremonious difference. This prerogative, 
Should Queens endeavour, their unvalued dowries 
Are not of worth to purchase ; and though here, 
As it befits me, I observe the distance 
Due to your birth, yet, in love's sacred Court, 
My place is high as yours, and there we may 
Walk hand in hand together. 

Chri. Do not flatter 
Your fancy with this vain conceit. Vitelli 
Must be no more your's. Know, I have enjoined 
The General Doria to engage his friend 
T' embrace my profler'd love to him. 

Euri. You strive, 
Because you think my young and timorous flame 
Unapt t'encounter brave Vitelli's heat, 
As cunning nurses do with froward babes, 
Fright them into an appetite ; but say, 
All this were real, think you, Doria would 



24 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

So easily be persuaded to renounce 

His proper interest, and enthral his friend 

To an unwilling slavery ? 

Chri. By truth, he has impawned his honour to endeavour 
What I have utter'd. Gentle girl, consider 
Love's unresisted violence, and believe 
I would not have a rival to usurp 
A corner in the kingdom of that heart 
Of which I'm sovereign : so farewell, dear soul ! 
Consider on't. [exit. 

Euri. Consider on't ! why, this is such an act, 
Done by a cruel sister, that shall taint 
That holy name with such a black reproach, 
That should a thousand pious virgins weep 
Rivers of tears, their most immaculate drops 
Would not wash white her scandal. Hapless girl, 
That in love's tempests wert but lately tost, 
And now, recovered, in a calm art lost. 

Enter Lactantio. 

Lac. Madam, the Duke intreats your instant company. 

Euri. I shall attend his pleasure : good Lactantio ! 
If you can meet my cousin Bouivet, 
Desire him visit me. \eccit. 

Enter Doria. 

Dor. Noble Lactantio, 
You 're happily encounter'd. I expected 
My friend Vitelli here : this is his hour ; 
I wonder he is tardy. 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 25 

Lac. Your lordship prevents the time with speed, or else 
Vitelli 
Has some impediment by business. 

Enter Vitelli. 

Sir, 

You're opportunely welcome, to deliver 
Your own excuse. I was about to stretch 
My invention for you. 

Fit. Noble friend, your enemy, had you engag'd your faith 
To any personal meeting, could expect you 
But at the minute ; reason may dispense, 
'Twixt us, with such a nicety. 

Lac. Now your friend 's 
Arriv'd, I must beg licence to depart ; 
I have some urgent business. 

Dor. Good Lactantio, your time's your own. 

Lac. I kiss your lordship's hand. [exit. 

Fit. Friend, now we're alone, I safely may 
Speak my conjecture ; I have read your looks, 
And, in their pensive characters, find secret 
Strange signs of sadness. 

Dor. I am sad, indeed, 
When my remembrance tells me I have only 
Verbal assurance of your friendship. 

Fit. Try me by any attempt, whose danger does surpass 
The common path of daring ; be't to snatch 
A fiery bolt, when it from heaven comes wrapped 
In sheets of lightning, to afford true proof 
Of my affection, and with eager haste, 



26 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

Such as inspires a husband to enjoy 

His spouse's virgin purity, I'll run 

To the achievement. 

Dor. These are but protests, 

Such as, begot by ceremony, proceed 

Not from intensive zeal ; yet, TO experience 
The truth of your affection, by a trial, 
Of such a noble and effective weight, 
Which, if you bravely do support, you'll stand 
As some tall pyramid, or column, for 
Your own memorial, to tell after-times 
The power and strength of friendship. 

Fit. Pray, name ? t : 
An 'twere a burden would oppress the earth, 
I'll be the able Atlas to sustain 
Heaven on my willing shoulders. 

Dor. There is a lady, 
In whose each eye sits fire ; and, on her cheek, 
Victorious beauty, captive to her smiles, 
Dances in lovely triumph ; one who emblems 
The glory of mortality in each look ; 
Contracts the orb of lustre to a glance ; 
Brandishes beams, whose purity dispense 
Light more immaculate than the gorgeous east 
Wears, when the prostrate Indian does adore 
Its rising brightness : yet this wonder doats 
On you, with such inevitable fervour, 
That I, in pity of her sufferings, come 
T' entreat you love her. 
Fit. Whom, my lord? 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 27 

Dor. You cannot appear so strangely stupid, not t' 
acknowledge 
Creation's miracle, when I point out 
Her very figure : you as well may seem, 
When the bleak north does, with congealing blasts, 
Bind up the crystal streams in chains of ice, 
Not to know winter; ignorant of her, 
Who, had she liv'd when superstitious mists 
Shaded the world, more groves of gums had flam'd 
To her divinest beauty, than to all 
The race of idle deities : 'tis Chrisea, 
The fair Chrisea, loves you ! 

Vit. The fair Chrisea ? your lordship's merry 

Dor. Do you slight 
What I deliver'd with that unfeign'd zeal 
That penitents do their prayers ? I say, Chrisea ; 
A name whose every accent sweetlier sounds 
Than choirs of syrens 7 sense-bereaving notes : 
Chrisea loves you, infinitely above 
Expressive terms, the orators should strive 
To paint her masculine fancy ; and I'm bound 
To pay this homage to her best content, 
As to conjure you, by all sacred ties 
Of honour, amity, and what else may serve 
T* enforce th* endearment, with your noblest love 
To gratify her fancy. 
Vit. No persuasion 
Can make me think this serious. Good, my lord, 
Do you not love Chrisea ? 

Dor. More than a babe does the kind nurse that feeds it 
with her blood ; 



28 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

More than I do my quiet, or the joys 

Of aught but blest eternity. Vitelli, 

No other argument can more convince 

Suspicion, should it doubt my love, but this — 

That, to procure her peace, I have confin'd 

The greatness of my passion, and give up 

To thy dispose a jewel, which the earth 

And sea, should both unlade their hidden wealth, 

Should not have purchas'd from me. 

Vit. These are arts to puzzle my conceits, my lord. 
I'm no such puny in the craft of love, 
That I want brain to find this drift, which is 
As obvious to me as your eyes ; now you 
Are home return'd victorious, big with praise, 
Laden with titles that sit heavier on you 
Than your steel corslet in hot fight, contemn 
Affinity with me, to whom you've heard, 
The fair Eurione has resign'd her heart, 
And by this circumvention, should I court 
At your entreaties her sister, might pretend 
A righteous cause for an unjust revolt ; 
For were it otherwise, your temper could not 
Brook your Chrisea's change without a start 
Into a sudden fury. 

Dor. This language I understand not : by my honour, 
friend, 
This iteration may disperse your doubt ; 
I do again conjure you, by all right 
Friendship can challenge in you, to affect 
Chrisea nobly I — Shall I have your answer ? 

Fit. Nay, then, my lord, 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 



29 



Since you are serious, freely I resume 
The privilege of my liberty ; this body, 
I do confess your captive, and 7 t has suffer'd 
An honourable thraldom, but my mind 
Remains unbounded as the air or fire 
Are from their spheres : Eurione has won 
By the subduing valour of her looks, 
That in a field of fancy, not of blood : 
And ere another shall usurp her right, 
In the defence I'll die her willing martyr. 

Dor. I judg'd what serious value, 
Your boasted friendship would retain i'the test. 
Draw your bright weapon ; know, that I do hate 
Baseness as much as cowardice, and since 
You slight a lady for whose priceless love 
Kings might resign their crowns and humbly fall 
Like bare-foot pilgrims, prostrate at the shrine 
Of such a beauty ; sure, if in this sword 
Death has a residence, your life shall find it, 
And not survive to boast the cruel triumph of her refusal. 

Fit. Sir, your sword cannot excite a trembling in my 
blood : 
The glist'ring splendour cherishes my sight 
Like polish'd crystal : henceforth name of friend 
Be no more known betwixt us than a dream ! 
Thus I expire it : — I may now regain 
My honour forfeited in the general cause, 
By this particular combat. 

Dor. Should my fate yield me the conquest, yet his death 
would not 



30 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

Beget Chrisea's quiet, but augment 

Her grief and hate against me \_aside.~\ : — stay, forbear !- 

I feel a palsy in my veins, and cannot 

Manage this little instrument of death. 

My sinews put on infancy again, 

And have no vigour in them. Oh! Vitelli, 

I am so full of passion, I have scarce 

Room left to vent a sigh : a mine of lead 

Hangs on my heart, and with its weight has crack'd 

The feeble courage. 

Fit. Noble soul ! his grief 
Works more compunction in me than his sword 
Did sudden anger \_aside.~\ Could I grant what you 
Request, no brand-mark'd slave should fulfil 
Sooner his master's most severe command 
Than I would yours ; but this abrogates all laws 
Of friendship's duty. If you've vow'd this act, 
You may as safely disannul the oath 
As should you in some desp'rate fury swear 
To be your father's murderer. 

Dor. Bid me first renounce 
My allegiance to my honour, sell the faith 
I owe my native country ; my Vitelli, 
I feel a humour in my brain which strives 
For passage at mine eyes : wilt see me weep ? 
Consider, friend, denying my request, 
Thou do'st undo a lady who may claim 
The privilege of all hearts ; — depriv'st the world 
Of such a gem, that should old nature strive 
To frame her second, it would quite exhaust 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 31 

Her glorious treasury ; — then in her ruin 

My life and honour's forfeited : think this ; 

And were thy heart obdurate as a rock 

Of adamant, this thought, join'd with my tears; 

Would, sooner than the blood of goats, dissolve it 

To gentle softness. 

Fit. Your eyes are moving advocates; they speak 
Such an o'er-flowing language, that my love, 
Then in its own cause a most partial judge, 
Allows my mercy freedom to pronounce 
Sentence on your side : you have prevailed ; 
I'll serve Chrisea as her pleasure shall 
Dispose my will, and fortune. 

Dor. I begin to feel my spirits quicken, and my blood 
Receive its noble temper; dear Vitelli ! 
Thy nobleness do'st prompt thee to an act 
Shall write thy friendship higher in the lists 
Of sacred amity, than mothers' loves. 
Go to my blest Chrisea ; she expects 
To know by thee the truth of my success ; 
Tell her, I am more happy in her bliss 
Than if I had enjoy'd her constant love. 
So leave me, friend ; I may, perhaps, transgress 
Manhood again ; and should 'st thou see me weep 
Twice, thou wouid'st judge my former flood of tears 
A feigned passion. 

Vit* Your genius guard you ! Thus I apply 
Balm to his wounds, while I do bleeding die. [exit. 



32 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

Enter Bon i vet. 

Bon. Noble General, I come to gratulate the happy 
choice 
You've made in fair Chrisea ; she's a lady, 
That, though she were a stranger to my blood, 
My judgment would allow as rich a virtue 
As ever glorify'd the sex. 

Dor. 'T would be a sacrilegious error not t' admit 
Your character for truth ; but, in our loves, 
A thousand hidden causes do produce 
Alternate changes; my return has settled 
My thoughts on new resolves, and I must suit 
My affections to them. 

Bon. How? Perhaps, because 
You are return'd triumphant with your bays 
Growing upon your brow, you do reject 
The love before you su'd for ; 'tis not noble 
So to abase a lady whose bright fame, 
Although untainted as a crystal rock, 
Must pass a popular censure, if you, who 
Did with such earnestness pretend her match, 
Should, on the sudden, scorn it. 

Dor. I'm not bound 
To give you reasons why ; but know, my mind 
(Which your contesting cannot alter,) 's fix'd 
On what I have related. 

Bon. I must then tell you 
You do defame the opinion of that worth 
The world does credit in you ; this affront, 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 33 

Should all her other friends sit idle gazers 
On her disgrace, should stir me to attempt 
An ample satisfaction from your heart, 
Though you had multitudes of greater glories 
Heap'd on your head ; or were defenc'd with legions 
T' affright me from the adventure. 

Dor. Sir, your courage is juster than your quarrel. 
Do you think 

I wear a sword only for ornament ; 
And though our years declare us equals, yet 
My education was i'the trade of war : 
'Tis my profession to infranchise souls 
From prisons of their flesh, and would be loath, 
'Cause you have interest in Chrisea's blood, 
Your passion should betray you to the fury 
Of my incensed wrath, 

Bon. All discourse is tedious to me : sure, the world 's 
abus'd 
With report of your valour. Men who commit 
Affronts they dare not answer, use excuse 
In moderation of them. I expected 
I should have met an adversary in you, 
Of temper hot as lightning, and as bold 
As lions vex'd with hunger; and I find you 
A tame degenerate coward. 

Dor All respect of love and pity hence ! [they fight. 
Bear up I my steel 

Has prick'd your breast — I would not have you dye 
Chrisea's Martyr. 

Bon, I've pull'd untimely ruin on me. I'm hurt, 

D 



34 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

I fear, to mortal danger : noble General, 
See me conducted to Lactantio's house ! 
There I shall get a surgeon. 
Dor. Noble young man ! 
Muster thy strongest spirits up. I am one 
Of Fortune's pastimes : yesterday, returned, 
Advanced to heaven by the people's breath ; 
To day, hurl'd down into the abyss of death. [exeunt. 



ACT III. SCENE I. 



Enter Chrisea and Corimea. 

Chri. Came none yet from the General ? 

Cor. No, insooth, Madam : I protest your sister, 
If she continue in these sudden fits, 
Will so undo her face that all my art 
Can never rectify 't : she weeps as if 
She might as easily be supplied with eyes 
As with new dressings. I'll be sworn, I took 
As hearty pains to cut a handsome heart, 
(And, though I say't, it was a pretty one 
As e'er was made of taffety,) to grace her cheek, 
And, never trust me if I lye to you, 
Her tears have wash'd her heart away. 

Chri. Thou'rt still 
In these impertinent discourses. W T hat's the cause 
My sister is so prodigal of her grief 
To let thee see her vent it ? 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 35 

Cor. Why, Madam, I have seen a lady weep 
Besides your sister, and have wept myself too. 
I never shall forget the time — I could 
E'en cry again, to think on't : 'twas at the death 
Of your fine little Jewel ; never lady 
Nurst such a dainty puppy ; but he's gone, 
And farewell he I I will not give a rush 
For any woman cannot use her eyes 
With as much liberty as her tongue : these fools, 
These loving idiots, men, for three forc'd drops 
Will mollify like wax, and be made apt 
For any impression. 

Enter Vitelli. 

Chri. Vitelli, you are welcome ! I suppose 
Your business has been urgent. We expected 
Your presence sooner : howsoever, now 
? Tis grateful hither. 

Cor. My young lady shall 
Have notice of ? s arrival ; so perhaps his sight 
Will cheer her drooping spirits. 

Fit. Madam, my friend 
The General does by me tender his best 
And truest service to you : he has sent me 
Prompt to fulfil the nicest point of duty 
Your pleasure casts upon me. 

Chri. Sir, the General is so just in his proceeding, 
I must ever esteem him truly noble, 
Though I should banish him my affection. 

Vit. I could wish 



36 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

The sweetness of your virtue would vouchsafe 
To lay a reclamation of your love : 
Had you but seen with what ambitious haste, 
With what extreme persuasions, he endeavour'd 
The satisfaction of your will, you could not 
Fancy a change from one so worthy. 

Chru No ? not to enjoy yourself? 

Fit. Me—Madam ! 
No equal eye can parallel my poor 
Regardless merit with the glorious worth 
Which does as far transcend mine in desert, 
As 't does in eminence of fortune. 

Chri. Sir, your modesty 
Extenuates your own worthiness to bestow 
A large addition on your friend's : my judgment 
Has balanc'd both, and has concluded which 
Ought to be held most noble : I do honour 
True constancy in men. Pray tell me, Sir, 
For it concerns me nearly, did you ever 
Fervently love my sister ? 

Fit. To include 
All strength of human zeal, as Doria does adore 
Your excellent beauty ; with a heat 
Holy as souls in deepest fancy, 
Their sainted fellows. 

Chri. And can you extinguish 
So great a name so easily ? Can entreats 
So soon subdue your temper ? If your truth 
Be of this wavering quality, how shall I 
Receive assurance of it ? 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 37 

Fit. The vow 
I made my friend secures it. Think not, Madam, 
That both my parents with persuasive prayers 
Could have enforc'd me violate my faith 
To fair Eurione ; but when my friend, 
My honour'd friend, to whom I owe my life 
As tenant to his bounty, did in tears, 
A soldier's tears, whose every drop prevails 
More than a captive princess, plead the loss 
Of his own life, my gratitude did vanquish 
Passion, and forc'd me tear even from my soul 
Eurione's affection. 

Chri. You are just 
In your determination. 

Enter Eurione. 

Vit. Bless me, friendship ! 
And with thy white wings overshade my heart ! 
Or here descends a Saint will dispossess thee 
Of the accustom'd shrine : a bark enclos'd 
'Twixt two encount'ring tides is not more toss'd 
Than I 'twixt striving passions ; while a friend, 
I cannot be a lover. 

Eur. Vitelli, am I in your opinion lost ? my sister 
Relates so sad a wonder that, if truth, 
I am undone for ever. 

Fit. Hark ! she speaks too 
A tempting language. Such was our first mother's voice 
While she was innocent : dear ladies, would 
I could divide myself ; for, being one, 



38 , THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

I cannot, on the theatre of my mind, 

Act both a friend and lover. That two names 

Of so intire affinity should occasion 

So manifest a dissension in a soul 

That would be true, yet is enforc'd, though loath, 

To forfeit one or to be false to both ! 

Chri. My expectation did not 
Presage this softness in you ; I had thought 
You had come furnished with a full resolve 
To act your friend's request. 

Fit. Yet I must needs 
Speak in a cause so moving : Madam, think 
How much more noble 'tis in you to save 
Than to destroy ! Behold three bleeding hearts 
Imploring pity from you ! mine, your sister's, 
And your adorer Doria's, which one word 
Of yours would ransom from approaching death. 
Oh, be not sparing of that breath ! 'twill sound 
In the just ears of heaven more sweet than prayers 
Offer'd by cloister'd virgins. O, resume 
Your native charity, and fulfil my suit ! 
And in requital of that sacred grant, 
Time shall depend like summer on your brow, 
And your whole life be one continued youth : 
Such were the springs in Paradise, and when 
You pass to be a sharer in heaven's bliss, 
Virgins and innocent lovers' spotless tears, 
Hardened to pearl by the strong heat of sighs, 
Shall be your monument. 

Chri. This whole discourse, 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 3£ 

Should you enlarge it to a volume, cannot 

Alter my meanest thought ; I only wish you, 

As you are noble, to respect your honour ; — 

That's all my answer. [exit. 

Eur. But do you mean, 
Vitelli, to perform what Doria has enjoin'd you ? 

Fit. I shall melt 
Into a willing pity, if the flame 
Of friendship did not, with its effectual heat, 
Dry up love's moisture. Dear Madam 1 he 
That has commanded me this dreadful task 
Claims such a lawful interest in my life, 
That, spite of my affection, I must yield 
To his resistless will : yet I will love you 
So far as honour gives me warrant, and 
Wish you, the best of women, the best joys 
Happiness can impart to you. Farewell I 
'Tis a befitting gratitude to give 
That life a being by whose gift I live. [exit. 

Eur. Sorrows flow high, grief unto grief succeeds, 
Wounds are more dangerous which do inward bleed, [exit. 

SCENE II. 
Enter Adorni and Frangipan. 

Ador. Come, let not this dishearten you ; your French 
Is a thing easily gotten, and, when you have it, 
As hard to shake it off, runs in your blood 
As 'twere your mother language ; but there is 



40 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

An observation far more necessary, 

T' improve your judgment; still let your discourse 

Concern the foreign business, and be sure 

T' applaud outlandish fashions and take off from 

What is native ; as if you shall hear 

Any commend the Genoa garb or state, 

Answer in France, in Naples, or in Spain, 

No matter where so it be far enough 

From hence, they are more politic, more witty, 

Every way more deserving; this will speak 

Infinitely judicious, when, to praise 

Our own domestic manners, is as if 

A man should praise himself and be accounted 

A self-conceited gull for't. 

Fran. Very good ! 
This is a rule 111 put in practice ; I, 
Thanks to my inclination, can speak ill 
Of my own Father, Signor. 

Ador. Signor 1 still you betray your ignorance ; why 
Signor ? 
Monsieur has a far more airy and harmonious sound; 
There's music in the letters : still polish your phrase 
With particles of language, which, 'till I have taught you 
Perfectly, answer with a shrug or nod, 
Or any foreign gesture ; such a silence 
Will be esteemed for gravity, and become you better 
Than volubility of speech does some 
Whose tongues are gentlemen-ushers to their wits, 
Still going before it ; and when you do speak, 
Let it not be as now you do of news 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 41 

Abroach ten days before, and quite drunk off, 

But what affairs are acted then in France ; 

What in the English Court ; and still remember 

T* extol 'em infinitely ; and if any answer 

Comparatively with our own, a serious laughter 

Will not become you ill, to shew how much 

You slight their error. 
Fran. Better still; — I like 

This slighting humour infinitely ; — but how, 

If they should talk of our Italian dames ; 

I'm bound to be their Champion, for I've heard 

Strangers report, and I hold their opinion, 
Our curtesans excel all other nations. 

Ador. That shew'd those strangers' judgments, and con- 
firmed 
What I would have you understand : in England, 
Where public houses are prohibited, 
There are the bravest lasses ; here, some Donsella 
That was, the last night, yours, shall, for two ducats, 
To-morrow be a sailor's; when there, 
Your citizens' wives, girls fresh as air and wholesome 
As precious Candy- wines, will meet their gamesters 
At a convenient tavern, rob their husbands 
Without a scruple, and supply their friends, 
While the good innocent cuckolds pay a price 
For their own horning. 

Fran. Excellent, excellent ! 
Genoa, I do defy thy costive girls ! 
Pll, henceforth, love these English sparks of gold ; 
Would I were there ; it should go hard, but I 



42 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

Would graft on their Aldermen's cockscombs — 

Ador. They're grafted fast already, Sir ; besides, 
They ne'er get children, but their hench-boys on 
Their Serjeants' wives after some city feast, 
When the provoking spirit of white broth, and 
Custard, enflames their blood ; what Genoa Burgess 
Dares be so boldly courag'd ? I'll tell you ; 
And mark how base and sordid it appears 
To have our cellars stuff' d with Corsic wines ! 
Yet, for this foolish sin calFd Temperance, 
Tantalize and ne'er taste it, while your Dutch, 
Your noble-spirited German, will carouse 
A score of goblets to provoke his stomach 
To 's bread and butter ; do nothing but by discreet 
Counsel of drink ; not match his daughter to 
A man he sees not drunk first ; scarce say 's prayers 
Till he be full of liquor, which enflames 
The mind to generous actions. 

Fran. I commend 'em, and will be glad to imitate. 
Ador. Your English 
Deserves as large applause, who, to say truth, 
Out-drinks the Dutch ; as, in the common proverb, 
The Dutchman drinks his buttons off, — the English 
Doublet and all away. Then mark their carriage : 
If two fall out, and strike, and be by company 
Parted, though one wears in his face the badge 
Of his dishonour, which excites him to 
As brave revenge, naught daunts him, for he'll straight 
Call out his enemy to a single duel, 
Scorning his life, coutemning the land's laws, 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 43 

Which do forbid those combats, and ne'er part 
Till one be slain, and the survivor sure 
As death to hang for't. 

Fran. Excellent I I love a man that cares not for hang- 
ing. 

Ador. Then, to their further glory, which takes off 
All the disgrace of halter, they are sure, 
'Ere they be scarce cold, to be chronicled 
In excellent new ballads, which, being sung 
I'th' streets, 'mong boys and girls, colliers and carmen, 
Are bought as great memorials of their fames, 
Which, to perpetuate, they are commonly stuck up 
With as great triumph in the tippling houses, 
As they were 'scutcheons. 

Fran. Better yet. I'd give 
A hundred ducats to be chronicled 
In such a historical canto. W T ho composes them ? 

Ador. They have their special poets for that purpose ; 
Such as still drink small beer, and are so apt 
To spit out lamentable stuff. Then, for their cloathes, 
They have a cut domestic, but imitate 
The French precisely : gallants wear their long 
Parisian breeches with five points at knees, 
Whose tags concurring with their harmonious spurs, 
Afford rare music : then have they doublets 
So short i'th' waist, they seem as 'twere begot 
Upon their doublets by their cloaks, which, to save stuff, 
Are but a year's growth longer than their skirts ; 
And all this magazine of device is furnish'd 
By your French taylor. What country man is yours ? 



44 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE 

Fran. A Genoese. 

Ador. Fie I change him, Monsieur. 
You have heard a Spanish Count 's 

Lately arriv'd without any advice. How 'd you salute 
him? 

Fran. Thus, Sir, after our Italian fashion. 

Ador. That's too vulgar : 
You must accost him thus, with a state face, 
As if your beard had been turn'd up that morning 
By advice of all the barbers in the city ; 
As you had dress'd you in a looking glass, 
Proper to none but the Duke's privy counsellors ; 
Pronounce your Beso los manos with a grace 
As if you were the son and heir apparent 
To th J Adelantado of Castile. 

Enter Lactantio. 

Lac. Adorni, this is no time for mirth : 
Your noble General has slain Lord Bonivet, 
And for the act is a prisoner. 

AdorT Dares the State bereave him of his liberty, 
Without whose most unwearied valour 
It had been betray'd to slavery ? 

Lac. You know Lord Bonivet's alliance to the Duke ? 

Ador. Alliance ! death ! a thousand Bonivets 
And Dukes and States weigh not 
A scruple, pois'd with his full worth ! 

Lac. He's to be tried i'th* morning, without noise, 
For fear of mutiny ; and, 'tis suppos'd, 
That if some virgin lady do not claim 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 45 

Her privilege, and beg- his life, he'll suffer. 

Fran. If the maid that begs must be above fifteen, 'tis 
shrewdly doubted where she'll be found. 

Ador. All our virgins ought, if they have virtue, to con- 
tend for such a glory ; but if all be squeamish, may all the 
daughters of our best burghers run away with soldiers, and 
become sutlers' wives ! 

Fran. Or else, when they have a masculine itch upon 
'em, and would taste man, may they be wed to eunuchs ! 

Lac. Else be forc'd to keep their maidenheads till they 
be musty, and not merchantable to younger brothers, with 
additions of wealthy portions ! 

Fran. May they, when they would strive to mend their 
faces to allure a suitor, want paint and black patches, to 
stop the crannies of their cheeks ! May their pomatum be 
mix'd with hogs' grease, that they may be abominable 
even in the nose of Jews ! May the green sickness reign in 
their bloods : and may they be debarr'd of oat-meal and 
clay wall, and fall to ratsbane ! 

Ador. May their parents turn most precise precisians, 
and forbid e'en the sight of plays, or may they never dance, 
unless it be to a bag-pipe or a crowd ! 

Fran. May they want silks for gowns; and if they seek 
supply from Naples, let them, instead, be furnish'd with 
their disease ! may milliners break, and feather-men ! 
may my aunt die suddenly, and bury with her all her 
devices i may there be no earth found to make looking 
glasses, that they come to use of kitchen wenches, dress 
their heads by the reflection of a pail of water, or in a pew- 
ter chamber vessel ! 



46 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

Ador. Lactantio, let's go wait the General 
In prison ; 't would be base should we neglect him in 
His extremity. [exeunt. 



SCENE III. 



Enter Doria and Sabelli. 

Dor. Is it confirm'd, he's dead ? 

Sab. The general voice 
Divulges so i'th' city, and the Duke 
Has sent an order, which commands you forth 
I'th' morning to your trial. My dear lord, 
I hope the service you have done the State 
Abroad, will, here at home, secure your life 
From the law's violent rigour. 

Dor. Yes, poor boy, 
If thou might'st be thy master's judge. Sabelli, 
I am at the period of my fate, and would not 
Have thee a sad spectator of my fall 
At home, whom thou so oft hast waited on, 
Abroad, in triumph ; therefore, gentle heart, 
Return home to thy mother, and survive 
To serve a happier master 

Sab. My noble lord, 
Have I so often followed you when death 
Attended on each step, when every hurt 
That scared your noble body I have wishM 
Imprinted on my flesh, and with my tears 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 47 

Even drown' d the purple deluge of your wounds, 

That, as my truth and loyalty's reward, 

I must be turn'd away unkindly, when 

My last and justest service might declare 

My zeal to you, my master. Oh, Sir, 

You more afflict my innocence with these words 

Than if sad truth had brought me the report 

Of my own mother's funeral : and should you 

Enforce me leave you, the succeeding care 

And labour of my life should be consumed 

In a perpetual weeping. 

Dor. Good Sabelli ! 
Cease this afflicting language, lest I grow as 
Childish as thyself, and burst into tears, 
To bear thee company. 

Sab. Besides, my lord, a 

When your blest soul does on immortal wings 
Arrive at heaven, who shall attend it there ? The 
Saints and angels will esteem themselves 
Worthy to be your fellows, while my poor 
And humble ghost would reckon it a bliss 
To wait on you as carefully as when 
We liv'd on earth together. Dear my lord, 
Let me dye with you ; death and I have been 
Play-fellows these many years, he'll only bring me 
To rest as pleasing to my sense as sleep 
After a tedious watching. 

Dor. This kind passion shakes my 
Most masculine temper. Sabelli, 



48 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

Accept this gold, these jewels, as the last 

Gift of thy perishing- lord. Thou shalt accept 'em. 

If the law do not pass upon my life 

Fll send for thee again. I pr'ythee, leave me ; 

I would be private ; and thy presence does 

Disturb my serious thoughts. 

Sab. Nay, then, 'tis for 
Me, the wretched'st soul on earth, to take 
My lasting farewell of you. All the joys 
Of blest eternity, instead of my 
Desertless service, wait upon your life ; 
You ne'er shall view your boy again; for sure, if your 
Light be extinguish'd, my weak name 
Cannot continue burning. Give me licence 
To kiss your honour'd hand, and to let fall 
A parting drop or two; — and now, farewell 
For ever, noble lord ! that grief appears most true 
That's writ in blood as well as tears. [exit. 

Dor. Poor boy I I have not yet deserv'd so ill, 
But my untimely fate excites some pity. 

Enter Adorni, Lactantio, and Frangipan. 

Adorni, thou art come to see the last 
And greatest of thy General's actions, 
Which, like a cunning and well manag'd scene, 
Not till the period will disclose the plot 
Of my life's tragedy. 

Ador. Your life, my lord ! 
Death dare not venture to invade it ; and 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 49 

The State as soon will call the enemy 
Into their city, as pretend the least 
Danger to their supporting column, which, 
Should it but shake, it might dismantle their 
Best bulwarks, burn their navy, and surrender 
Themselves to present slavery. 

Lac. The Duke, 
Though he did hold his kinsman dear, will value 
The public good before his private ruin. 

Fran. Let the Duke do his worst, and all the State 
Stand on punctilios I can fetch a lady 
Of excellent quality, shall beg your lordship: 
I'll make her do't. 

Ador. Nay, should all fail you, sir ; 
Should the State's anger and the Duke's partial sentence, 
The peoples' malice bandy to surprise 
The treasure of your life, know, you have friends 
Would fix the heads of half the town upon 
Their lances' points, 'ere your least drop of blood 
Should be diminished. 

Dor. Gentlemen, I thank you [for] 
All your loves ; but know, the shape of death 
Is not [so] ugly to me, but if justice 
Contract me to the monster, I shall court it 
As 'twere some beauteous bride, and thank the axe, 
That, like the priest, unites me to a spouse 
That will not play the woman, and revolt. 
Come, gentlemen, let's in : brave souls do hate 
To be dejected by the force of fate. \eoceunt. 



50 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

ACT IV. SCENE I. 
Enter Chrisea, Eurione, and Vitelli. 

Chri. I am very sorry that his fate has cast 
Such a disastrous chance upon his life ; 
But his desert will blunt the edge of justice, 
And mitigate the severity which would 
Question the safety of his life. 

Fit. 'Tis in your mercy 
To dash the law's proceedings, gracious madam ! 
The privilege that our country gives your sex 
Can hope for no employment that will raise 
A greater trophy to your fame than this, — 
To ransom him whose constancy and truth 
Exceeds all boast of stories. 

Eur. You'll redeem 
The opinion of your piety, which scandal, 
Should you omit this just and righteous task, 
Would blast with blackest infamy. 

Chri. You plead in your own cause, not his. 'T does 
not beseem 
My modesty to interpose myself 
In that which nought concerns me. 

Vit. Is his life 
Of such a trivial value in your thoughts, 
That you esteem't not worthy your intreats 
To save't from killing ruin ? Sacred love ! 
Thou miracle of nature, and delight 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 51 

Of all who know humanity, with some 
Religious arrow pierce her flinty breast I 
Some pious shaft, on whose subduing point 
Pity and amorous softness gently sit, 
Reduce this straying schismatic to the first 
Unspotted pureness of her constant faith, 
And we will pay a thousand clouds of sighs 
As incense to thy altars. 

Eur. Offer up 
Myriads of virgin vows, and, with our tears, 
Extinguish all irregular flames that taint 
Thy holy fires ! 

Fit. Oh, Madam ! 
What heart so barbarous does not, at love's smiles, 
Put off its native fierceness : beasts with beasts 
Observe his laws ; the lion, whose big breath 
Affrights the trembling people of the woods, 
Were his hoarse accents to be understood, 
They would appear to be affection's groans. 
The nightingale, that on lascivious wings 
Flies from the poplar to the trembling beech, 
And on each bough chaunts melancholy notes, 
Had he a human utterance, would proclaim 
Those pensive strains the music of his love. 
And can ye be less sensible of a power, 
That is so great, than creatures barr'd the use 
Of sacred reason and discourse ? 

Chri. This is to seek to pacify the sea 
With tears. Vitelli, you mistake ; your friend 
Values not at so dear a rate his life 



52 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

As to receive a being tributary 

To my unask'd intreats : besides, I should 

Envy the State's prerogative, whose mercy 

Is, in remitting his unwilling fault, 

But a becoming thankfulness ; and should 

Be censur'd as too partial to my own 

Affection, should I strive to be his wife, 

Whose hand is purpled with the innocent blood 

Of my late murder'd kinsman. 

Eur. This concerns 
As nearly me as you, but by just truth, 
Though I'm engaged by my particular choice 
To my Vitelli, were I sure the General 
Would not contemn my offer, and so blast 
My future fame, I would disclaim all ties 
Of former fancy and implore his safety. 

Vit. This is a sweetness 
Which I could wish you. What has begot 
This strange desertion of your faith ? True love, 
Being once reeeiv'd into the soul, converts 
Into its very essence, — does become 
The same eternal substance ;— can you, then, 
Tear from the tender cabinet of your breast 
Your very heart ? This cruelty exceeds 
The depth of tyranny : but rest assur'd, 
If Doria suffer by your proud contempt 
I'm freed then from my promise, and will sooner 
Warm an empoisoning scorpion in my arms 
Than yield my meanest thought to you, who are, 
By evident circumstance, though not by fact, 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 53 

My friend the General's murd'ress. 

Ckri. This, Vitelli, 
Is not a means to win me to your friend, 
But more avert me from him : it inflames 
My mind with holier fire to court your love. 
There is an evident beauty in your soul, 
Equal to truest honour. I will cherish 
This bravery in you. If your masculine fancy 
Engages you thus constant to a friend, 
You'll be a loyal husband Fare you well ! 
Be still thus noble, and be happy ! \exit. 

Eur. My sister 
Has lost all sense of pity. Dear Vitelli ! 
There is no wretchedness oppressing earth 
Equal to ours. Love thus the tyrant plays, 
Afflicting innocence by unusual ways. [exeunt- 



SCENE II. 

Enter Doria, as a prisoner, Lactantio, and Adorni,- to them, 
Trivulci, Senators, Officers, and Attendants. 

Ador. Tis like yourself, my noble lord ; but see, 
The Duke approaching. Let your soul expect 
An equal hearing. 

Offi. Bear back ! room for the Duke and Senate ! What 
cuckold 7 s that would have his coxcomb broke ? bear back 
there ! 

Triv. Cite in the prisoner ! 

Offi, He's here, my lord. 



54 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

Tri. Pm sorry that 
You, for whose head the gratitude of the State 
Decreed triumphant bays, should be enforc'd 
To stand here a delinquent ; but the law 
Must, as a straight and uncorrupted stream, 
Enjoy its usual freedom. My lords, 
We are not met here to arraign a prisoner 
Whose guilt does speak his sentence, but a person, 
Not only most unblemish'd in his fame, 
But one to whom our country owes its life ; 
Who, with his dearest blood, has balm'd the wounds 
Which mischief's giant-offspring, razing war, 
Cut in the bosom of the common-wealth. 

Sen. We all confess his worth. 

Tri. Yet this brave youth — 
This patron of our liberty ; all his honours, 
His blood and titles, his defensive bays, 
That would have guarded his victorious front 
From blasts of lightning, laid aside ; is come 
To tender satisfaction to the laws 
He has offended ; and since judgment is 
Th' immediate act of justice, it must pass, 
To save impartial censure, on his life, 
As on the wretch'dst malefactor's ; for 
His former merits cannot take away 
His present fault ; for whoe'er is guilty 
Undoes the privilege of his desert and blood. 
For if great men, offending, pass unpunished, 
The common people, who do use to sin 
By their example, fearless will run on 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 55 

Into licentious wickedness. 

Sen. Your grace delivers 
The intention of the State ; no oracle 
Could have explain'd the meaning of our laws 
With more integrity. 

Tru Yet, my good lords, 
I speak not this, that my particular vengeance, 
Because he slew my kinsman, has the least 
Aim at his life, which I would strive to cherish, 
As my own health, or as the city's peace ; 
For magistrates ought to behold their crimes, 
Not the committers, as the poets feign, 
Of wise Tiresias, to want eyes and only 
Have seeing understanding; for a judge 
Is guilty of the fault he does not punish. 
A nd if reward and triumphs do adorn 
Deserts, 'tis just that shame and punishments 
Should wait on vices ; and, how much more worthy 
The person is, that acts them, so far sharper 
Should be the penalty inflicted on him. 

Sen. And when the law 
Uses its utmost rigour, 'tis the crime 
And not the man it sentences. 

Tri. In brief, 
We must decline his merit and forget 
Our gratitude : and since his hand is dipt 
In civil blood, his life must expiate what 
His arm unfortunately committed. 

Dor. My lords, 
The services which I have done the State 



56 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

Were but my natural duty ; I atchieved 'em 
To gain me fame and glory, and you safety ; and 
Should esteem them traitors to honour, if their interces- 
sion 
Be a protection for my crimes : I mean not 
To plead to save a dis-respected life, 
'Cause I fear death : a sea-incompass'd rock 
Is not less timorous of th' assaulting waves, 
Than I of the grim monster; but there is 
A fame surviving which I would be loath 
Should tell posterity I tamely yiedled 
My head to the axe, and died, because my spirit 
Durst not desire to live : to quit this scandal, 
I hope, what I can urge in my defence 
Shall have indifferent hearing. 
Tri. Speak freely, 
Dor. Know then, my intention 
Is not by excuse to extenuate my fact, 
Which I confess most horrid, and would pay 
A thousand showers of sorrow could this hand 
Re-edify that goodly frame of flesh 
Which it demolish'd ; but my priceless fame, 
In whose dear cause, I slew him, will to justice 
Boldly proclaim, I did no more than what, 
The truth I owe my reputation tells me, 
Was right in point of honour. 

Tri. But the law 
Does disallow it, as unjust, and that 
Must be your judge ; and not that idle breath 
Which you abusively term honour. 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 57 

Dor. Your laws cannot, without partiality, pronounce 
Judgment against me, for they do acquit 
That man of guilt that, to defend his life, 
Is forc'd to slay his enemy ; my act 
Carries the same condition : since my fame, 
Whose safety urg'd me to kill him, is my life, 
My immortal life, as far transcending this 
As the soul does the body; for the sword 
Returns that to its primitive matter, dust ; 
And there it rests, forgotten ; but a wound 
Struck upon reputation leaves a brand, 
(So self-diffusive is dishonour's guilt,) 
Even to posterity, and does revive 
After 9 t has suffer' d martyrdom. - : 

Sen. Yet, this 
Cannot excuse your fact ; for civil reason 
Allows a reparation for the loss 
Of fame, but gives no man a lawful licence 

To snatch the privilege from the hands of justice, 

Which would dispose it equally. 
Do?*. This strictness destroys all 

Right of manhood, since a coward 

May, fearlessly relying on this suffrage 

Of law, affront even valour's self : consider 

That the most cunning pilot cannot steer man's 

Brittle vessel ^twixt these dangerous rocks 

Of law and honour safely ; sail by this, 

But on that suffer shipwreck : for, suppose 

I had with patience borne this scandalous name 

Of a degenerate coward, I not only had 



58 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

Nipp'd the budding valour of my youth, 

As with a killing frost, but left a shame inherent 

To our family ; disgraced 

My noble father's memory ; defamed, 

Nay, cowarded my ancestors, whose dust 

Would have broke through the marble, to revenge 

On me this fatal infamy. 

Ador. Well urg'd; and resolutely. 

Dor. Nay, more : yourselves, 
That hate the deed being done, would have detested 
The doer worse had it not been performed ; 
Withdrawn my charge in the army, as from one, 
Protested for a coward ; I might then 
Have abjur'd the trade of war, in which I have been 

nurs'd. 
Yet, for preserving this unvalued gem 
Of precious honour, that hangs on my soul 
Like a well-polish'd jewel in the ear 
Of the exactest beauty, must I suffer 
The laws' stern rigour. 

Tri. Sir, I could refute, 
With circumstance, your wrong opinion ; but, in brief, 
Religious conscience utterly disclaims 
An act so barbarous : to take man's life 
Is to destroy Heaven's image ; and if those 
Are held as traitors, and the law inflicts 
Severest tortures on them who deface 
The stamps of princes on their coin, can they appear 
As guiltless, whose rude hands disgrace 
The great Creator's image, and commit 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 59 

Treason 'gainst awful Nature. Oh ! my lord, 
Collect your serious temper, and put off 
The over-weaning fantasies of youth ; 
Consider what a vain deluding breath 
Is reputation, if comparM with life : 
Think, that an idle or detracting word 
May, by a fair submission, which our laws 
Of honour do require and will enforce, 
Be wash'd away ; but the red guilt of blood 
Sticks, as a black infection, to the soul, 
That, like an ^Ethiop, cannot be wash'd white : 
Think upon this, and know, I must, with grief, 
Pronounce your fatal sentence. 

A shout within. Enter Corimba and Frangipan. 

Fran. Do you hear, General ? I'll tell you news : you 
were in jeopardy to have had your little weason slit, but I 
pronounce the happy word ; be safe ! 
This piece of beauty, 
By my persuasions, does intend to take 
The edge of law off, and become your wife 
True and inseparable. 

Cor. With reverence to this presence, my good lords, 
Know, that I come not urg'd by heat of youth. 

Fran. Tis true ; I'll bear her witness. 

Cor. Or any wanton or unchaste desire, 
To beg this gentleman for my husband; neither 
To raise myself a fortune by the match ; 
But, mov'd in charity, and provokM in mind, 
With pity, to behold a man so proper, 



60 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

Brought to an end untimely, by a death 
So scandalous to honour as the axe, 
I come to crave our privilege, and desire him 
For my most lawful husband. 

Tri. Gentle maid, 
Your piety does prompt you to an act 
That shall engage your country to erect 
A statue to your memory. Though I could not 
Dispense with justice, yet, since there's a means 
Without the law's infringement, to preserve him, 
I do rejoice as much as if my son 
Had scap'd apparert danger: go on, and prosper 
In your design. 

Dor. Do you think, because I pleaded 
For my honour's life, 
I doat so much upon this idle breath 
As to preserve 't with infamy ? Dispose 
This womanish privilege to submissive slaves 1 
Know, that I hate a being that depends 
Upon another's bounty more than death, 
At which my soul does, like an eagle, stretch its 
Silver wings, and, o'er the monster's head, 
Will make flight at heaven : pray, sir, proceed 
To judgment suddenly; delay begets 
More tortures in me than your sentence. 

Cor. What do you mean, sir ? pray, let me under- 
stand you better : look upon me ; I am no woman to be 
slighted 

Fran. She's not asham'd to shew her face ; marry her, 
uncle, that I may call you so. 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 61 

Sen. To wed this figure, is a far greater punishment than 
Death. 

Ador. Ne'er stand on terms, but marry her, and free your- 
self : and trust to me, you shall not want a mistress that 
has better colours in her face. 

Dor. Corimba, 
I'm much engag'd to your officious haste, 
And pay you many thanks : conceive not that 
I do contemn your person, or dislike 
The meanness of your match ; for were your beauty 
Created for a miracle, and adorn M 
With the addition of a fortune ampler 
Than that perfection, I should crave a licence 
To tell your modesty, I am prepared 
Rather for death than nuptials ; and no strength 
Of prayers and beauty shall have power to tempt me 
From my nVd resolution. 

Trl This is madness, not courage, Doria. 

Cor. Sir, I must tell you, you know not how to use a 
woman rightly: 
Perhaps 'tis bashfulness ; take courage, sir : 
I have reserved my dear virginity 
This fifty years for such a pious purpose, 
And should you slight me now I should forswear 
Good purposes hereafter. Gentlemen, persuade him : 
Sure he cannot chuse but melt 
At your entreaties. 

Trl. Will you then pull your ruin on, that seeks 
Thus easily to fly from you ? Justice calls 



62 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

On me to give your sentence : — 

Recorders; — enter Vitelli, and Sabelli as a Lady, Virgins, fyc. 

new interruptions ! 
It is the voice of music, and presages 
An omen as harmonious as its notes. 
Approach, fair troop of Virgins ! here's a subject 
Fit for your maiden pity. 

Cor. Tis time for me to take my farewell : these may be 
beauties ; perhaps my lady may be one. Adieu, sir ; you 
may be offer'd worse. [ex. Corimba and Frangipan* 

Sab. My honour'd lord, 
The charity I owe my native country, 
That, in the ruin of this brave young man, 
Would suffer infinitely, has forc'd us strive, 
With early zeal, first to present our duties 
For his redemption, 'mong ten thousand virgins 
That would attempt it ; and my true affection 
Has won this favour from my fellows, that 
To me they yield their interest, which I claim 
As my desir'd prerogative. 

Tri. 'Tis an act the State will thank you for : unveil 
yourself, 
That we may know to whom we owe our gratitude. 
A most excelling beauty ! such an eye 
Would tempt religious coldness to a flame, 
Thaw age's chilly frost : at such a cheek, 
The Spring might take a pattern to create 
A most accomplish'd freshness; in her looks 
Are modest signs of innocence, such as saints 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 63 

Wear in their liveliest counterfeits. Doria, hear — 
A lady begs you ; whom, if you refuse, 
The times would black you with the hateful title 
Of your own wilful murd v rer : take her to you, 
And live a fortunate husband. 

Dor. Noble maid ! my misery is so extreme a sin, 
It cannot meet your bounty without breach 
Of vows, which, should I violate, would pull 
Eternal torments on me : keep your beauty 
For one whose soul, free as the air he breathes, 
Can yield a mutual fancy to your flame, 
And not destroy his honour for your goodness ; 
Since my expirM date cannot yield you thanks 
Worthy the boundless merit of your love, 
If there can be a gratitude after death 
Expressed by prayers, my soul in heav'n shall pay it 
To your kind charity. 

Sab. O, my lord! 
I did expect this answer ; my poor worth 
Cannot deserve your value ; yet there is 
A constant purity in my thoughts, that intend you 
So much of bliss, that had your safety no 
Dependence on my suit, it would be deem'd 
Most cruel to contemn me. I have lovM you 
These many years ; wish'd you as many glories 
As I have numbered days ; have vow'd I never 
Will marry any man but your blest self, my lord : 
Should you neglect the justness of my request, 
Besides the danger waiting on your life, 
A thousand virgins, whose unspotted prayers, 



64 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

Like hosts of guardian angels, would have borne 
You on their wings to heaven, will, for my sake, 
Convert their zeal to curses, and, in tears 
Of anguish, drown your memory. 

Fit. Why, friend, this is 
Such an o'er-weening passion as does question 
The soundness of your judgment, fills the world 
With a conceit you die, because your fears 
Dare not accept of life. Besides, your mistress, 
To whom you would so strictly keep your faith, 
Does so much scorn your constancy, that no 
Entreats could move her pity undertake 
This honourable employment 

Tri. Do it with speedy diligence. 

Dor. Her causeless frailty 
Shall more confirm my truth. 
My noble lord, pronounce 
My happy sentence ; 'twill be welcome to me 

Enter Priest and Executioner. 

As charming harmony, and swell my breast 
With more than human pleasure. 
Tri Are you come ? approach : 
Behold this executioner, and this priest ! 
This is to wed you to destruction — that, 
To this rich mine of purity ; your choice 
May accept either. If you fix on this, 
Besides your own redemption, you enjoy 
A lady who may claim as many hearts 
As she has virtuous thoughts ; but lean to that, 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 65 

Your spring returns unpitied to the rude 
Arms of perpetual winter, that will freeze you 
To a ne'er-melting icicle : be sudden, 
And wise, in your election. 

Dor. 'Tis but vain : a saint may sooner be o'ercome to 
sell 
His native piety. Come, thou grim man ; 
Thou art to me more lovely than the face of perfect 
Beauty. Do thy office ; it will free me 
From these perplexities. 

Sab. Well, my lord, 
Since I'm unworthy to enjoy in life 
Your fair society, my soul shall haste 
To wait on you to death ; there is no bliss 
Without your presence : since you will not have 
Mercy on your own life, by your example 
I'll be as harsh to mine. Ill go 
Before you to the other world, 
And be your lov'd ghost's harbinger. 

[Sabelli attempts to stab himself. 

Tri. Hold, hold the lady! 

Sab. Let no hand presume to seize me ; 
For the meanest touch that shall 
Endeavour to prevent my will, 
Shall urge my speedier ruin. Good, my lord, 
Shall I have answer? I would fain be going 
On my long journey. 

Dor. Fm confounded 
In my imagination. I must yield. 
You have enforc'd a benefit upon me, I 

F 



66 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

Can hardly thank you for : yet I will try 
To love you as my wife. — That I were lost 
In clouds of black forgetfulness ! 

Tri. My'lord, 
Your pardon's seal'd as soon as by the priest 
You are conjoin'd in marriage : 
I'll not leave you 

Till 't be solemniz'd. Hymen, light thy pine ; 
Death's tapers fade at the clear flame of thine ! [exeunt. 



ACT V. SCENE I. 



Enter Trivulci, Doria, Sabelli, Adorn i, Priest, cu\d 
Virgins. 

Tri. Is the priest prepar'd 
For his hymn after nuptials, and the virgins 
Ready to gratulate the bride and bridegroom 
With the appointed dance? 

Ador. The priest, I think, 
Has the song perfect ; but it is a question 
Among the wisest, whether in the city 
There be seven virgins to be found, to furnish 
The dance as 7 t should be ; but you must accept them 
With all their faults. This music speaks their entrance. 

Recorders. — Enter Virgins. 

Song. 
Triumph appear ! Hymen invites 
Thee to wait upon his feast : 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 67 

Mix thy joys with his delights, 
'Tis the General is chief guest. 
Bid the drum not leave to teach 
The soldier's fainting heart to beat : 
Nor war's loud music, cannon, cease 
Breasts with deathful fire to heat. 

Thy waving ensigns in the air display ! 

The General lives, 'tis triumph's holiday I 
Come, bright virtues, that reside 
In heav'n as in your proper sphere : 
Though all contain'd in the fair bride, 
Chastity, do thou first appear 
With Temperance and innocent Grace ! 
Rose-colour'd Modesty and Truth 
Dance harmless measures in this place, 
With health and a perpetual youth, 

And all your virgin trophies bring away 

To grace these nuptials ! Triumph's holiday ! 

A dance. 

Tri. You have our hearty thanks, and we shall study 
To give you fair requital. Come, my lord ! 
Erect your drowsy spirits ; let your soul 
Dance airy measures in your jocund breast. 
This is a day on which each bridegroom ought 
To wear no earth about him : air and fire 
Are Hymen's proper elements. Your mirth 
Ought to infuse into your frolic guests 
An humour apt for revelling and sport ; 
Your disposition is more dull than if 
You were to be chief mourner at a corpse : 



63 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

For shame ! shake off this sadness ! 

Ador. It becomes you, to say truth, scurvily. 
I do not like it : 

You look as if you'd lost some victory, 
Of which your hope had an assurance. 
Shall I tell your lordship 
A very pleasant story? 

Enter Vitelli. 

Dor. It must be, if it be delightful to me, a discourse 
Of some quick means to free me from this cruel 
Oppressive weight of flesh, which does entomb 
My martyr' d soul, that, like to sulphury fire, 
Hid in a mountain's entrails, strives to burst 
The prison, and fly upwards. It must needs 
Be a sad wedding, when the bridegroom wears 
His nuptial livery on his eyes, in tears. 

Fit. Friend, this is 
A passion too effeminate for a heart 
Endued with manly courage : things past help 
Should be past thought : your sadness casts a cloud 
Upon the lustre of this lady's looks ; 
You make her dim the brightness of her eyes 
With unbecoming tears, if you continue 
This strange distraction. 

Sab. Alas, my lord ! 
Let me participate your cause of sorrow, 
And be a willing partner in your grief, 
Which, like a violent current that o'erflows 
The neighbouring fields and meadows in its rage, 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 69 

Into two streams divided, smoothly runs, 
Kissing, with calm lips, the imprisoning banks, 
Would, though too mighty for you, when my soul 
Should vent a part of it, be mild, and pass 
Away without disturbance of your peace ; 
Which, to procure, I would even burst my heart, 
With sighs devoted to your quiet, and 
Become a loving fountain by my tears 
I shed without intermission. 

Dor. Gentle lady, 
I am at such an enmity with fate 
Makes me incapable of ought but grief ; 
But I shall study to declare how much 
I am indebted to your care. 

Enter Eurione, Chrisea, Corimba, and Lactantio. 

Good heaven ! 
Send down some angel to protect my heart, 
Or my religion will scarce stay my hand 
For acting wilful violence on my life ! 
I have suck'd poison from her eyes, that will, 
Like to juice of hemlock, drown my soul 
In a forgetful lethargy, or oppress 
My temperate faculties with madness. 

Tri. Cousin, you're welcome ! Know this virtuous lady 
Who has redeem'd the General. 

Chri. Sir, Pm come to gratulate your beauteous bride, 
And wish you joys immortal. 

Sab. I hope, madam, my innocence has giv'n you no 
offence, 



70 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

That you refuse me, being a stranger to you, 
The ceremonious wishes which pertain 
To new-made brides, and only do confer them 
Upon my lord. 

Chri. Your happiness already 
Is so superlative, 1 cannot think 
A new addition to it. You enjoy 
The very sum of fortune, in your match 
To such a noble and illustrious husband ; — 
I no longer can hold my passion in; 
These walls of flesh are not of 
Strength sufficient to contain 
My big swoln heart. My lords, behold a creature 
So infinitely wetched, I deserve not 
The meanest show of pity, who have, like 
A silly merchant, trifled away a gem, 
The darling of the quarry, lost a love 
By my too foolish niceness, to regain 
Whose forfeiture I would lay down my life : 
But he is gone for ever, and I left 
A piteous spectacle for the reproach 
And scorn of wiser women. 

Eur. Is this possible? 
Was all her passion to Vitelli feign'd ? 
My hopes recover life again. 

TrL Why, Chrisea, 
Whence springs this passionate fury ? 

Chri. Oh ! my lord, 
When you shall hear it, you will sigh for me, 
And shed a charitable tear, at thought 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. /I 

Of my unkind disaster: Sir, \_To Doria.] my justice 

Cannot accuse your constancy, which stood, 

In the first trial of your love, as fast 

And spotless as an alabaster rock, 

That had it but persisted in that height 

Of honourable loyalty, your glory 

Had been advanc'd to heaven as the fix'd star 

To guide all lovers through the rough 

Seas of affection. 

Fit. This taxation 
Cannot be just from you, who did enforce 
The sad revolt upon him. 

Dor. Is there in heaven no friendly 
Bolt left, that will strike this frame into 
The centre, and set free a wretch 
So overgrown with misery from life, 
That death would be a comfort above health, 
Or any worldly blessing. May time blot my name out 
Of his book, that such a prodigy 
May not affright succession, nor strike, 
Like an overspreading leprosy, upon 
The beauteous face of manhood ! 

Chri. Oh, my lord ! each grief of which 
You're sensible, is mine, and not your 
Torment : every sigh you breathe is an 
Afflicting motion, expired by my vex'd 
Spirit ; and if you could weep, each drop 
Would be my blood, who am the spring 
Of the whole flood of sorrow. O forgive 
The two exceeding honour of my love ! I would 



72 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE, 

Have had you for your perfect truth so glorious, 
Your loyalty should not, for 
Preservation of your fame, have needed 
To adopt a statue for its heir, or builded a 
Monumental pyramid — but love 
Is oft-times love's undoing. 

Tru This is such a cunning labyrinth of 
Sorrow, that no clew can lead them out of. 

Dor. It would be 
A great affront to misery, should there live 
A person half so wretched to out-dare 
The strength of my affliction. Methinks, 
I'm like some aged mountain, that has stood, 
In the sea's watery bosom, thousand shocks 
Of threat'ning tempests ; yet, by the flattering waves, 
That cling and curl about his stony limbs, 
Is undermined and ruin'd. I have 'scap'd 
War's killing dangers, and, by peaceful love, 
Suffer a strange subversion. Oh, Chrisea 1 
While I have reason left that can distinguish 
Things with a cool and undistracted sense, 
Let's argue mildly th' unhappy cause 
Of our undoing. 

Eur. Truly, sister, 
'Twas a suspicious rashness I could wish 
You never had attempted. 

Chri. My lord, 
Human condition always censures things 
By their event : my aims have had success 
So strangely hapless, that will blast the truth 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

Of their intention's purity ; I never 

Harbour'd the least suspicion of your faith, 

Which I did strive to perfect by the test, 

As richest gold refin'd and purg'd 

From dross of other baser metals ; and besides 

The trial of your constancy, I meant 

To sound Vitelli's depth, upon whose love 

My sister doted so, that I was loth 

To see her cast the treasure of her heart 

Upon a stranger, of whose constancy 

She had too small assurance. 

Tri. Gentle cousin, 
Your good intents encountered bad success ; 
But I admire, since you must needs have notice 
Of his disaster, that the law would pass 
Upon his life, you did not, to prevent 
All other virgin intercessors, haste 
To pay the early tribute of your love. 

Chri. My wretched fate, 
With a too quick prevention, has o'erthrown 
The justness of my purpose. 
I relied so much upon his nobleness ; I thought 
The ugly horror of a thousand deaths 
Could not have mov'd his temper $ and besides, 
Knowing his mighty courage, I permitted 
The law proceed upon him, that, hereafter, 
He might be sure no merit can appease 
Offended justice ; otherwise I could 
Easily have stopped this mischief. 

Tri. How, Chrisea? I understand you not. 



73 



7 A THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

Chri. Lady, to quit all scruple that I do wish 
Yours and your lord's succeeding happiness, I'll offer 
Something as an oblation that shall add 
Peace to your nuptial garland ; see, my lord, 
My cousin Bonivet lives ! 

Enter Bonivet. 

Tri. Lives ! Lactantio, did not you inform us 
That he was dead, and you had caus'd his body 
To be prepar'd for funeral ? which occasioned 
The General's sudden trial, because, our custom 
Does not permit the corpse to be entombed 
Before the murderer have his sentence. Sir, you shall know 
What 'tis to mock the State thus. 

Lac. Good, my lord, 
Hear but my just excuse ! I am so much the fair 
Chrisea's beauty's [servant] ; by such ties, 
Oblig'd to serve her, that I chose to hazard 
The anger of the State, 'ere her displeasure ; 
And do submit me to your gracious censure. 

Chri. I must connrm't. 
Sir ! it was I who caus'd him to conceal 
My cousin Bonivet, for the causes which 
I did declare before ; and now, myself 
Having receiv'd a satisfying proof 
Of his affection, came resolv'd to clear 
These misty errors, but my cruel fate 
Has, like a sudden storm, which has beat down 
A goodly field of standing corn, even ripe 
For the laborious sickle, crush'd my hopes, 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 75 

In one sad minute, into nothing. 

Sab. My lord, I owe 
Such an obedient duty to your peace, 
That, though my heart does wish to wait on yours 
For ever, since I see betwixt this lady 
And you such firm appearances of love, 
If the law please to allow it, I resign 
My interest to her, and be fortunate 
To see you two live happy. 

Fit. Since the marriage 
Has not arriv'd to consummating act, 
I do believe this may be done. 

Tri. Do not delude 
Your favour with vain hopes ; the law cannot 
Dispense with the strict canon; 'tis impossible 
You should be separated ! 

Dor. This happiness 
Was too extremely good to be confirm'd 
To such a wretch as I am : I am like 
One that did dream of a huge mass of wealth, 
And catching at it, grasp'd the fleeting air, 
And, waking, grieves at the delusion. 

Sab. Sir, resume your antient quiet ; the formal 
Love shall not oppose your peace. I'll disannul 
The marriage easily ; and, most noble lord, 
Pardon your humble servant ! 

\Sabelli throws off his disguise. 

Dor. Sure, this is 
Some apparition to confirm my faith ! 
Speak ! art thou my Sabelli ? 



76 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

Fit. Yes, tis he ; fate would not suffer two such 
Noble souls to be so disunited. Gentle boy ! 
Thy duty to thy master will continue 
Thy name in story as the great example 
Of loyalty in servants. 

Sab. Twas the zeal I ought in duty to my master's life 
Hath put me on the attempt ; which, if he pardon, 
I'm fully satisfied. 

Dor. My joys do with a sudden extacy oppress 
My frail mortality, and I should sink, 
Wer't not for my supporters. My Sabelli, 
Thou hast restor'd two lovers to their bliss, 
Whose gratitude shall pay to thy desert 
The tribute of their hearts. Dear madam, now 
I hope your scrupulous doubts will remain free 
From any new suspicion. 

Chri. Since I have 'scap'd the danger past, believe [it], 
Pll avoid 
The like hereafter. My lord, please you confirm 
My choice, and let my sister be dispos'd 
To good Vitelli ; he deserves her. 

Tr'u Your wishes are fulfill 'd : 
Cousin Bonivet, welcome to life again ! 
You and the General must be friends. 

Dor. Your goodness will pardon my misfortune. 

Bon. And desire to be esteem'd your servant. 

Enter Fran gi pan. 

Fran. With your leave, gentlemen ! Madam, I have such 
news to tell you, as will tickle your understanding to be- 



THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 77 

lieve : — the General is married ; and more, Signor Doria, 
Lord Bonivet lives — That's lucky news for you. 

Dor. He's here, good Signior Frangipan. 

Fran. My news has ever the worst luck — I must resolve 
to leave it off. 

Ador. But, sir, I have some sudden news to tell you : 
the thousand ducats you contracted to pay me when you 
could understand the French as perfectly as myself, by all 
these lords' indifferent judgment is due on this very minute. 

Fran. This is news indeed ; you do not mean to make a 
gull of me : a figo for a thousand ducats. As I am a gen- 
tleman, I know not French for any thing, not for an ass : 
good, your grace, let me not be abus'd. 

Cor. 'Twas I, my lord, who made the bargain with him : 
The money is not due until my cousin 
Have French as perfect as himself. 

Dor. He has ; I'll bear him witness ; for Adorni 
Speaks not one true French word. 

Fran, How ! not one true French word ? 

Ador. No, not a word; you must disburse. 

Fran. Tutor, I'll tell you news ; 
You made a fool of me ; 
I could abuse him horribly, 
If I durst for fear of beating. [aside. 

Ador. My lord, 
If he will undertake wars, 
I'll quit my bargain. 

Fran. I'll pay it treble first : the name of war 
Has brought an ague on me. 






78 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 

TrL You two agree that : cousins, I rejoice 
To see this happy period of your loves. 
Let's back unto the temple, that the priest 
May, by his sacred power, unite your hearts. 
Lead to the temple ! [exeunt. 



THE EPILOGUE. 



Frangipan. 



Gentlemen, I'll tell you news ; the Play is done; 
And he that writ it, betwixt hope and fear, 
Stands pensive in the tyring-house to hear 
Your censures of his Play. Good Gentlemen, 
Let it be kind ! or, otherwise, his pen 
Will write but dully, for he needs must lack, 
If you dispraise 't, the quick'ning spirit of sack 
To inflame his genius, which you'll ever find 
Devoted to you, if your votes be kind. 






VARIATIONS FROM THE OLD EDITION. 



•age. 
5 


line. 
27 


humour is substituted for honour in 


17 


9 


ditto ditto 


33 


21 


in you of you 


42 


20 


I introduced 


43 


1 


contemning concerning 


49 


25 


thank think 


51 


15 


the its 


m 


23 


fearlessly fearfully 


— 


28 


but and 


58 


7 


on to 


59 


8 


and it 



LONDON : 

Printed by D. S. Maurica, Fenchurch Street. 



^■^B 




